Surrounded by a Certain Longing
by Moonunit
Summary: Okay, here it is the sequel to 'Surrounded by the Holidays'. Please remember that this story deals with a senitive subject of past rape and attempted suicide. Molly decides it might be time to deepen their relationship and Sherlock demands to know 'why'...


Surrounded by a Certain Longing

Part of the 'Surrounded by' Series takes place after the 'Surrounded by the Holidays' and that was a sequel to 'Surrounded By Wolves'

Gee, I hope I'm not beating a dead horse or even a live one with this story! *sigh* But as I warned many of my lovely readers...that I was thinking of writing this story and here it is... I'm so sorry if it turned out to be one _**huge **_disappointment…There are better stories out there, I know I've read them so I won't be offended if you don't like this...

Anyway a big thank you for everyone who liked and told me they liked 'Surrounded By the Holidays' you are all really lovely and wonderful…

~*~Part 1 of 1~*~

'_Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness with surrounds me?'_

-The Speckled Band by Arthur Conan Doyle

~*~SHERLOCKHOLMES~*~

Molly Hooper watched Sherlock Holmes carefully mix a couple of different chemicals together. Molly knew Sherlock planned to soak the foot she'd given him in the solution he was making.

She waited nervously, rubbing her lips together, feeling the lipstick that she had very recently put on. Wondering when Sherlock would notice it and realize what it meant.

"Would you hand me—"Sherlock began to ask with a snap of his fingers.

Molly didn't need him to finish the sentence before quickly handing him the decomposing foot. Knowing he would let it soak for a few hours.

"Thank you…" Sherlock muttered carelessly as if thanking her was meaningless.

He placed the foot into the chemicals. Molly watched in fascination as the solution began to gently bubble around the foot.

Sherlock smiled happily as he watched with her. "Isn't that simply lovely?"

"Yeah…" Molly softly agreed.

Every since they started whatever the hell they were…They weren't lovers and yet Sherlock seemed to hate the term boyfriend and girlfriend.

'Sounds so childish…' He had stated with such disdain and a wrinkled nose as if he had smelled something rotten. He had once called Janine his girlfriend but that was only for a case. A cruel game he had been playing.

Maybe he was trying to show that whatever they were was not a game to him. He seemed to find it okay when she called them a couple…Maybe that was indeed the best term. They had even went out on quite a lot of dates.

They had started dating right after she had spent the Holiday's with Sherlock's parents. Though that had not been a date; good heaven's no. They had gone to the Holmes family house for the holidays mostly because that was what Sherlock demanded. Afraid that she'd want to kill herself if she was alone for one second during the holidays…So he got what he had wanted, her alive and well, spending the holiday at his parents...Making his mummy quite hopeful about Molly's place in Sherlock's life…

First and only girl _**ever**_ invited to meet his parents…a girl who had child baring hips according to Sherlock's mum…

John, Mary and their little pride and joy were there…

Sherlock's Mum and Dad had agreed to give the Christmas Holiday one more try. She had discovered that Sherlock had a nasty habit of ruining the holidays which was why as a family they never did them very often. That year because Sherlock told his Mum he wanted to bring a girl home and not just any girl but his 'dear, sweet Molly'. His mum had been ready to forgive him and sang with joy and perhaps even gave a delighted twirl with little girl glee around the room…

So, with the holiday planned and Sherlock seeming to be on his very best behavior…Which to be honest made everyone a bit nervous. He mostly wanted the holiday away from London so he could in some strange way keep a much better eye on her. After reading a lot of studies online about how suicide were higher during the holidays, Sherlock had taken the job of making sure Molly was not going to kill herself quite seriously.

She had told Sherlock not to worry. Hell, she had even sworn to him that she was doing better. Yet…She still ended up at the Holmes' family home for Christmas.

Even Mycroft had shown up and she ended up sharing some words with the man after he asked her mockingly if he was going to hear about a happy announcement about her and Sherlock. Actually, she had told him the truth at least what she knew as the truth. Sherlock and she hadn't been dating then.

All she knew was that Sherlock was worried and perhaps scared. Months before he had stopped her from taking her own life. She had so desperately wanted the pain and everything to go away including her life. Sherlock was determined that was not going to happen.

So after reading those studies online, Sherlock told her that she had a choice. She could be handcuffed to him again. Not fun. Give her chemicals that would keep her unconscious for days on end or the third choice the one they both luckily went with.

A Family Holmes Christmas…As stated, Sherlock's parents seemed to forgive Sherlock. Perhaps, because he was bring home a female.

His Mum told Molly about how there had been other times he'd drugged his family as a teenager, making her weary of ever eating or drinking anything that Sherlock gave her or was standing by.

She had noticed Mycroft, must have had the same thought for he had not been in any rush to eat or drink during his visit. Molly had a feeling that Sherlock had gotten quite a kick out of Mycroft's obvious distrust and discomfort.

Her thoughts drifted back to the present when she heard Sherlock ask her, "So, while my foot soaks what would you like to do?"

Molly bit her lip lightly not caring if it ruined her lipstick. Oh, how did she start this…"I…um…" Perhaps she wasn't ready; she wanted to desperately to be ready. "Cluedo?" Molly finally said with a sigh.

Molly noticed Sherlock was finally noticing her. He tilted his head before saying softly, "You are wearing lipstick."

Molly looked down and waited for the floor to open up and swallow her whole. As she waited for that to happen she decided to respond with a soft, "Yes, I am."

"Hmm…Nice."

Molly looked away from the floor to Sherlock's eyes. Strangely hopeful. "Really?"

"No. It's a horrid shade, but it's not as bad as some of the others you have worn. That rosy pink shade is my favorite if you must know." Sherlock informed her, making Molly tempted to wipe the new shade she wore off. She didn't though instead his words, oddly enough gave her strength.

"I…I think it's time, Sherlock."

Sherlock quickly glanced at the foot he was experimenting on.

"I'm not talking about the foot!" Molly growled angrily.

Sherlock smiled calmly at her, "Oh, I know, Molly. You are talking about something much more than my foot. Actually it's something far more intimate that you have in mind. I've known the moment you came over. You are wearing an outfit that I have complemented you on more than once and you styled your hair the way I like it. Every now and then I can see a lacy shoulder strap of your brand new bra. It's nice. I've also noticed that you have been quite nervous since coming over. After much thought, I realized that that you were tempting to woo me with this lovely corpse's foot. Thank you by the way. I must say, you do know how to court a man. Question is why do you think you're ready now?"

Molly blinked at him, surprised. "Why not? I'm a woman and…and I have needs, Sherlock! And we are a couple now. You said we could be if I wanted…Well guess what? Couples make love all the time! So let's…go do it."

Sherlock nodded before moving around his kitchen as if looking for something. He found an unlabeled clear bottle to set down by the sink as if he planned to use it for later. Perhaps after the foot and chemicals did their thing.

"Why?" Sherlock asked carelessly, after a long moment as if he had something else on his mind.

A part of her hated when he was like this. Yet, the thing is he always seemed to be like this…

"Because…" Molly finally decided to answer him, "Sex can be fun and good _and_ pleasurable when done right."

"_**Why**_, Molly?" Sherlock repeated his voice low and his eyes now seemed totally focused on her face.

Molly could feel herself flushing with embarrassment and to be honest some anger. She wasn't sure why a feeling of intense anger was slowly building within her.

"What are you a cold fish or something? Do you just lay there and think of England?"

Sherlock slowly moved towards her. "I've always been more focused on what my brain is doing than what my body wants to do or is doing. I do, however, every now and then let it have what you deem as _fun_. Is it necessary or extremely important to me as it seems to be to other men? No. When I do have _fun_ do I enjoy it? Sure, I enjoy orgasms just like everyone else. I'm not scared of it like my bother says in our somewhat friendly banter of such matters. Janine was wrong in telling those rubbish rags that I'm a sex addict and needed sex every single day and night. I was simply using her to get into her boss' office. She was the one who seemed to want to have sex every damn blasted day. It seemed to make her happy and she's a very passionate woman who seemed to enjoy coming up with new and creative ways to perform intimate acts. At John and Mary's wedding she let it be known that she wanted a serious relationship. She seemed to be tired of being alone. Good friends of hers seemed to be getting married or engaged all around her, making her feel even more like the third wheel. She felt more like an outsider looking in and she wanted what everyone else around her seemed to have. She really didn't want to be alone any more. I used that desire, yes, but I feel she got a lot of what she thought she wanted out of me as well…"

"You used her to get what you needed and you're saying she in her own small way used you to get what she wanted as well…" Molly found herself saying softly.

"There was no small way about it, Molly. John has told me that my way of doing that was a thousand times crueler." Sherlock said with a shrug as if it was not at all important before continuing, "You know my methods, my dear sweet Molly, and yet you always seem, much like John, to simply accept them. Now, why don't _you tell me __**why**_you want to take our relationship to the next level? For I have a feeling it's not as simple as you want me to believe."

_Feeling_? Did he really just say 'feeling'? Since when is Sherlock Holmes moved by _feeling_?

Molly moved away into Sherlock's sitting room. Her arms were now hugging herself tight. She was smart enough to know that Sherlock had followed her into the room.

"Is that what you think? That I now what to use you for sex, too?" Molly couldn't keep the wealth of hurt from her voice.

There was a long moment of stunned silence.

"No, of course not…" Sherlock stated, when he finally decided to speak. "Never, Molly, never. The thing is, someone seriously used and violated you. He treated you…Not like the treasure you are but like trash. He tried to break you; he tried to destroy something very beautiful. He, in no way, succeeded. It's just taking you a very long time to see that fact. I just want you to make damn certain that you know what you are asking for and _**why**_."

She wiped at her cheek, truly surprised when her fingers came away wet, "I just…I want to be_ normal_ again, Sherlock! Why can't I be normal?"

"Because you have never been normal. Even before that bastard raped you. Normal is completely boring; Molly and I've never surrounded myself with boring people. After what you have been through; you can never be the same again. No matter how much you change as you heal, you are still my Molly, always my dear sweet Molly, and you will never be boring or normal…No matter how much you wish it."

She slowly turned around to face him yet she found her watery eyes drifting away from his face. Sherlock gently caught her face in his strong and yet oddly kind hands. He waited until she stopped avoiding his gaze so they could look into each other's eyes.

"I told you…" Sherlock said with great promise. "_**You**_ will be the one in complete control of our relationship. _We will do this together, be together, and more importantly get through this together_."

Molly swallowed hard before admitting, "I'm actually afraid, Sherlock. What if I never heal completely? What if I can't ever enjoy sex like I use too? What if I end up becoming a cold fish just laying there; making a grocery list in my head?"

"Well…at least, you won't be thinking of England." Sherlock said with a very weak smile.

His tone made her give a shaky chuckle. She was using all her strength to keep from falling apart. Molly knew Sherlock would catch her if and when she did fall apart. It was nice being able to trust him enough to catch her.

Sherlock continued, his voice now seeming tight and low with determination. "Plus, when we do get together in the biblical sense…You will be on top and I will be on bottom. For I know, my dear sweet Molly, that control is very important for you to have back. He savagely and brutally took that away from you and with every breath I take, I will make certain that you get it back."

"Sure…But what if I don't ever enjoy it again? What if…" Molly attempted to share her greatest fear that perhaps she was just too broken and much too damaged to ever…

God, sometimes Molly felt as if she was honestly walking through a minefield. She was trying so very hard to live with what had happened to her. She really was, yet it was so very hard. Perhaps, the hardest thing she ever had to do. Helping Sherlock fake his death was child's play compared to this.

Molly continued, "What if I'm not worthy of being loved, Sherlock. What if I'm simply too broken to ever truly heal…Maybe we both would have been better off if you had just let me…"

She cut herself off. She was saying all this wrong…Sherlock would never completely understand.

"Die? Kill yourself?" He finished for her. His eyes now hard and cold with a tone of pure steel and ice she stated, "Never."

"Sher—"

"I do wish you would stop being so bloody stupid!" Sherlock interrupted her. "You are indeed doing better, Molly, much better. The fact that you want to try to have relations with me says an awful lot! You aren't damaged goods. Nor are you completely broken. At least, you are not as broken as you once thought yourself to be. And trust me, _just trust me_, when I tell you that you are worthy of all good things. Including love, if love is indeed good. In many of my cases people have said they did what they did out of this thing called love…"

Sherlock sighed before he tilted his head to say thoughtfully, "You deserve someone so much better than me, someone more human perhaps, someone who understands love and what not…but sadly for you I will never leave you, willingly so you are stuck with me, Molly Hooper. Always"

"I…I do like being stuck with you, Sherlock Holmes." Molly told him, being completely honest with him, taking a sniff trying to continue to hold herself together.

"Good." Sherlock said with a ghost of a smile before it faded away. "So…are you going to share with me the nightmare that prompted all of this?"

Molly jerked away from the man she loved. She should have realized by now that she would never be able to keep a secret from him for too long. It was one of the things that made him a great consulting detective. He could deduct a secret within seconds in what would normally take police or investigative reporters days, weeks, hell even years to figure out.

Molly walked slowly to the window to glace out before answering, "The dreams…The nightmares they are not as bad as they were at first, they are still horrible when I do have them…and…and last night was a seriously bad one…Really bad. It had a mixture of memories from that day and as always he was there. Always there…"

She knew she didn't have to say her rapist's name. She didn't need to. Sherlock knew whom she spoke of. He was the one to find the man and had made sure the bastard would never touch another female again.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering…

"You may have sent him to prison, Sherlock, but he's always running free in my mind. Always."

She could feel Sherlock's presence behind her. He was close by. Very close, not touching her, but there all the same. Soothing her like aloe upon sore skin. At the moment, his closeness was making her feel safe. Protected somehow and she needed that…More importantly she needed him.

"As you know, he called me his whore and I know, Sherlock, I know I'm not. I'm not a whore and I'm damned sure not his. I belong to myself and…you. My heart is yours…Anyway, in the dream, as usual, he was hurting me…He told me to stop lying to myself. I was his, forever his; why else would he be allowed to haunt me? As if I had a choice in the matter!"

"You know, Molly, seeing that we are sharing at this moment…I must say that sometimes, I do mental exercises where I break into prison and kill that man slowly. Very slowly. However, I just never can decide which method of death would be best." Sherlock told her, his voice was a true pure glacier of ice.

Molly glanced at Sherlock to see an incredibly dangerous man who could easily stray towards vengeance. Not at her. Never at her, but at the man who had dared to rape her. The man who had hurt her so brutally. Of course, Sherlock hunted him down like a hungry wolf after its prey. She knew Sherlock had beaten the man before handing him over to the police so the wicked man could never experience freedom or what Sherlock deemed important-have any control ever again.

"Even if you did kill him, Sherlock, in my dreams and sometimes even when I'm awake, he's there. He's still there, always there. He never leaves me alone and I'm so tired of him haunting me. _So very tired_."

She felt Sherlock's hand tenderly caress the back of her head, before saying softly and carefully… "The thing is Molly; he's nothing but a filthy liar. Even in your dreams, much like when you are awake, he doesn't own you. He will never own you. Your spirit, your mind, your body will _never _be his. Let him try to haunt you and like with many ghosts of old, with time he'll fade way. If he doesn't, well perhaps one day soon you'll dream of me killing him with one of my many inventive ways of doing him in."

She studied him. There was no mischievous twinkle that she had grown familiar with, no traces of humor, only intense cold eyes that seemed to speak of a deadly hell that made her wonder if that was what her rapist saw right before Sherlock attempted to physically break him into tiny pieces.

"Sometimes I do dream of you protecting me, Sherlock. Not all the time, because I do think I can handle standing on my own two feet…but…Sometimes…You protect me and I feel a moment of…peace…" Molly admitted so very softly and with true honestly.

He flinched as if she had slapped him. There on his face was a hint of deep regret as if it bothered him greatly that he hadn't been able to protect her from a monster, from her rapist. With his hand he curled his fingers around hers to bring her hand up to sweetly kiss her fingers.

"When it mattered most I wasn't there to do that and Molly I am sorry for that…Really, I am sorry." He told her with much regret and true heartbreak.

"Oh, Sherlock…John may say you are a man of countless miracles but not even you could have foreseen and stopped what happened to me and to be honest when it *_did_* matter…you were there…_**You were there **_and stopped me from killing myself." She spoke of the very night she had decided that she would die. By her hand and it had been her choice. She had been at peace with it, the only moment during that time she had felt anything other than shame, fear and hopelessness…

Everything had been meticulously prepared. She had everything cleaned, boxed and tried to leave no mess for others to handle. Her last will and testament had been paperclip so very neatly to her suicide note that had lain upon her kitchen counter.

Molly had been ready to die. She had wanted to die and thought the only way to end the pain she had been experiencing was to end it all.

Sherlock had strongly disagreed and his overwhelming determination to keep her alive made her decide to try to do what he needed her to do…Live. Which seemed so very hard at times…

"And Sherlock," Molly continued softly. "_You are still here for me_. You once said you needed me…Well, I need you and I'm thankful that I have you."

His hand tightened on hers. Sherlock told her just as softly, "I am here for you, always, and you have me. I'm glad that I stopped you that night…It seriously hurts me to think about what would have happened if I hadn't been there to stop such foolish madness."

"I'm glad you were there, too. Took me awhile not to be so bloody angry with you at times as well as bitter…For you forced me to deal with so much, that I didn't want to deal with…and while we are speaking openly and honestly…I…I think it's safe now for you to stop painting and nailing my balcony door shut."

"NEVER!" Sherlock promised before he took what seemed to be a calming breath, "So…I know you didn't sleep very well last night. If you want we could go to my room and take a little nap together. Couples do that according to John. I will simply hold you…Or we can have fun, wild swing ourselves from the chandelier sex. Or we could do both, sex and a nap…perhaps even throw in a nice game of cluedo. Well, whatever you choose, Molly, it is as always your choice."

Molly chuckled, "So, when did you get a chandelier in your bedroom?"

She leaned on her toes and gave him a light kiss on the lips before pulling back slightly, her hand still in his.

"Well, actually, I've been meaning to get one. I have a nice one in my mind palace…I always fear that I might have to delete it one day…but if I had a real one…" He didn't finish the sentence as he leaned forward and settled his lips on to hers.

There was no great demand in the kiss. No pressure of lust. Just its own brand of tender care. Perhaps even love. She thought she felt it there. Love and a sweet reminder that she was indeed alive. She was a woman. More importantly she was Molly Hooper. Her rapist hadn't destroyed her as she once feared.

His kiss deepened as a well skilled musician would slowly bring forth his beautiful song from his instrument. The song he was creating was so beautiful she could have wept.

When the kiss ended she found herself saying surprisingly, "I'm really disappointed that you don't have a chandelier…"

Sherlock laughed and Molly smiled in return. She started to move slowly towards Sherlock's bedroom. Still holding on to his hand tightly, leading the way.

Maybe they would only take a nap. Sherlock holding her sounded so very delightful. So wonderful.

Or maybe…just maybe…

They could indeed take their relationship further…

As Sherlock said it would be completely her choice. Always her choice…

So she would choose and he would willingly and patiently be beside her as she did just that.

Choose…

However, no matter what she decided she would always choose to love Sherlock Holmes.

~*~THE END? ~*~

Okay, there is a question mark at the end of THE END simply because I'm thinking about another sequel, could be a while before I get to writing it but I do have a crazy idea…

A review will truly help motivate me to decide.

Any way thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a lovely day full of hope for a better tomorrow…


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